Walking my dog Mabel this morning, I was listening to the Julia Louis-Dreyfus podcast wiser than me. She taps into the wisdom of older famous women. She is brilliant.
In the end, Louis-Dreyfus always asks his interviewee what they would say to their 21-year-old self. Today’s guest, model Beverly Johnson, said: ‘Don’t get married!’ She made me laugh out loud because, of the many things she could say to my younger self, this would be one of them.
When I was getting divorced in 1992, I went to see a wonderful therapist named Renee. She had been married for ten years and I was deeply unhappy. She was trying to understand why. She was living what was apparently a charming life. What happened to me? Was she being selfish by destroying the family unit? My children, who were six and four years old at the time, had a weekend dad. What was I thinking?
Renee told me that the word selfish had been given a bad reputation. Taking care of ourselves is one of the best things we can do for ourselves and those around us, she said. She made me understand why I wasn’t happy and I finally took that leap.
In case you’re wondering, my ex-husband has been happily married for the past 20 years. I am happily single. At the time of my separation I was 34 years old. I thought I would never meet anyone again and to be honest I didn’t really care. But the relationship gods intervened and I did it. After a year we moved in together. My children loved him.
After a couple of years, he proposed to me and I accepted. The next morning I told her that she had changed her mind. I panicked about feeling “owned” again. I wanted to be with him because I chose it that way.
He didn’t need a marriage contract. He understood and our relationship continued healthy for another six and a half years.
And then he finished it; Apparently the problem was that I liked to move house too frequently. (I move about once every three years.) Obviously, our separation wasn’t just due to my domestic habits: I also killed the cat! He was 16 years old. I couldn’t take the step. Still, it’s still the best relationship I’ll ever have.
The only time I have lived together again was on my last immersion in the well of love. It was the winter of 2008; I was 52 years old, he was 38. He was a lawyer, but he had found his calling and was going to leave everything to be a Reiki healer. I could hardly object. He had been a famous agent, but that same year I had left everything to become a novelist.
We were both taking the road less traveled. Mine less spiritual!
On our first date I asked him if he wanted to have children. Obviously she wasn’t going to waste her time if she did. My date was ambivalent. I don’t think the idea would have even occurred to him. Six months later, we went to the wedding of his friends, let’s call them Mike and Fiona, on the Amalfi coast, after which we went on a week’s holiday to Sardinia.
Melanie at home with her dog Mabel
One night at dinner he told me he was worried about Mike because Fiona didn’t want kids, but he thought Mike did.
He knew intuitively that he was talking about himself. I later asked him if he had changed his mind about kids and he said maybe. —Where does that leave me?
I asked. “It’s not about you,” she replied. “It’s about my journey.” Can someone show me the exit please?
We had three days left on vacation, so I was trying to stay calm until we got home, when I would tell him it was over. Only my face betrayed me and that night, during dinner, she asked me what was wrong. I told. He was mortified. There were tears. Oh God. Men and tears. Who can resist? So, based on the fact that we agreed that relationships can end for a hundred different reasons, we continue down that path.
He moved to my house in the Cotswolds but when we arrived in London we returned to our respective flats. It was the perfect setup. Together and apart. I wrote. (At the time, mostly for me). I practiced reiki. (Mainly about himself). I asked him why he couldn’t do reiki and law; Talking about dreams and energy was getting boring. His answer was always: ‘Because I am a spiritual person.’ Finally, I came to my senses and realized that dreams and energy were not enough. I left him. He returned to the law. He now has two children.
On our first date I asked him if we wanted to have children. I wasn’t going to waste my time if I did.
Because we’re conditioned to think that when a relationship ends we need to meet someone else, I jumped right into online dating. I had some very bad dates. She was 56 years old and was trying to date age-appropriate men. But men my age don’t want age-appropriate women. They want people who are 30 years old so they don’t feel their age. Sometimes they were attracted to my profile, just to act like they were doing me a favor.
Others were more concerned about telling me about their ex-wives; that he didn’t know how to cook, that he couldn’t use the microwave. Not fascinating.
I went on a date with a guy who was a ‘my mom, your dad’ setup. My youngest son and his friend thought we might be compatible. We met at a nice local Italian trattoria. He was disheveled, I wasn’t. We ordered from the handwritten paper menu.
She was chatting, focused on him, when he said, ‘Melanie, your menu is on fire and it’s right near your hair!’ Her (she had left it on the tea light without realizing it).
All hell broke loose. The waiter was waving the fire sensor to stop it from going off, the waitress was frantically opening and closing the door to try to create gusts of wind, I was blowing on the menu which eventually burned. I thought it was funny. A great icebreaker. The look on his face told me otherwise. We tolerated each other until he was polite to leave.
Finally, in 2018, I gave up dating. Covid helped. During the six years that I spent being my dog and I, I realized that I was happier than I had ever been. I have learned who I am by being alone.
Still, I don’t want to leave this earth without ever having kissed again. I like to kiss. If I knew someone whose aspirations matched mine, that would be fantastic. But I can never live with anyone. A day here and there, maybe. A beautiful weekend.
But freedom and satisfaction have been hard-earned. I will not abandon you. Not even for love.
Melanie’s latest novel. Fuck it! List is published by Penguin, £8.99. To order a copy for £8.09 until June 2, visit mailshop.co.uk/books or call 020 3176 2937. Free UK delivery on orders over £25.
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